Poetry

by Nicole Rollender

By holding up divining rods as their wings move mountains. By moonlight.
By burying a desiccated starling, pressing on its still-trumpeting heart. Continue Reading →

by Dustin Pearson

There’s this kid down the street. All us boys call him Braxton.
He’s bigger than us, looks like some of the men
we’ve seen walking around, pants low-hanging
and broad shoulders, a chain around his neck, Continue Reading →

by Kathrine Sowerby

The party is on the top floor of a tower block
and we are drunk, Tia Maria. Does it matter

if one person falls from the balcony? Two? If
the children get to school on time? The dog Continue Reading →

by Xandria Phillips

Yes, Tracy, you were right to ask: What if dark matter is
like the space between people when what holds them together isn’t
exactly love? I have eaten my share of it. I have
survived on the acrid flesh of dark matter. I have Continue Reading →

by Niina Pollari

When I go to sleep in a house
I know I’m gonna be a goblin Continue Reading →

by Chelsea Eckert

I.
How flattered I was when
you oiled the gyroscopes
in your skull so that I
wouldn’t hear the obnoxious
swivel of the gaze that
often wanders to organic
tendons, deposits — and
how could I get mad?
Continue Reading →

by Nicolette Daskalakis

You are a bloody
mess that moves
gracefully
with a machete at your side, Continue Reading →

by Kristy Bowen

In the desert, an egg will fry at 158 degrees, water will boil at 212.
Continue Reading →

by Tessa Berring

The whale is marooned
at the top of the stair.
How like a whale!
So vast! So salty! Continue Reading →

by Darryl Price

and floated along with
us like it was attached
with a string. I thought that
meant we had a boat in
case of emergencies
but she said it was sad
but she said it was sad Continue Reading →